Snapshot
by vnsjvhgs
Summary: Jacob is starting over, creating a new life for himself and his son in a new town. SheeWolf85 prompt. (:


_A new story based on an old story. Well._

_Review, and write all you think about the rewrite. _

_(:_

* * *

"Jesus, Nathan," Jacob exclaimed. "It's just shampoo! It won't hurt you."

"No, daddy!" The boy slid to the end of the bathtub and glared at the offending bottle of soap, and then at his father. "No!"

Jacob sighed, and pried a bath cup from the child's grasp. He dunked it in the soapy water, and then lifted it to Nathan's head. Nathan screeched and slapped his hands against Jacob's forearms.

"No!" He growled. "No soap, no!"

Jacob cupped a hand over the boy's forehead, and then poured the water onto his son's dark hair. Nathan hissed and whimpered and groaned, and Jacob dunked the cup in the water again, repeating the sequence as he wet the boy's hair through.

When he reached for the shampoo bottle, his son shook his head and pushed a washcloth over his eyes.

"No, daddy!" He repeated. "No shampoo! I be very angry at you!"

Jacob squirted a small amount of soap into his palm.

"That's too bad, Nate," he murmured, and swept his palm through his son's hair. As the boy kicked up more of a fuss, Jacob hurried through the notions; lathering, rinsing, buffing and scrubbing. When he was satisfied with the outcome, he released Nathan and examined his soaked pants and the bloodied crescent marks left in his arm, deeming them worthy sacrifices of the clean boy he'd present to the newcomer tomorrow.

"It's done," he told his shivering son. "Easy, huh?"

The boy just glowered.

* * *

William Black picked at the door with a metal key, disregarding any shred of politeness Renesmee had hoped him to possess. He was a stocky, suit-wearing human that spoke of the stock market as if it were the only thing that interested him, more so than the twenty-one year old he'd hired to watch his grandson.

He'd wanted Renesmee's name and age over the phone, and no more. Though he had requested a police check for their first meeting- her first day as his employee, he had yet to look at it, or any of the other additional papers she'd given him that morning for that matter. He had merely shaken her hand, shuffled her into a car and had explained the dynamics of his family.

He had then jumped into a one-sided discussion about exchange rates, and hadn't quietened since. He prattled on as he shouldered the stiff red door of his son's apartment, and then as it gave a groan and flew into his teeny grandson, who had been waiting on the other side of it.

The little boy was quickly huddled to a man's chest, one hand clutching his head and the other wound tightly around a thick neck. Renesmee gaped at William, still talking at her as he edged closer to the boy and who she assumed to be the child's father.

"He's okay," William said, noting Renesmee's expression. The boy's sobs told her otherwise, but she didn't dare tell him so. "It happens all the time."

* * *

"Great start to the job," the more charming Black murmured, once William had excused himself with a mention of some business deal or the other. "My father is. . . Difficult, at times."

Renesmee just hummed, and sipped at the coffee she'd made herself on the machine her employer didn't know how to use.

"He's work-orientated," charming Black elaborated. "He prefers to look at things from a business perspective- my son included. It's not that he didn't care that he hit him with the door, he just didn't want to waste the resources it would take to coddle Nathan when he knew he was fine."

It wasn't the healthiest outlook on life, and Renesmee didn't completely understand it, but she would attempt to. If a salary of $290 a week- live-in, as of the following day- meant minding her own business, then she'd do it.

"Resources," she agreed with a nod, as if she actually knew what on earth charming Black was talking about, "right. So," she breathed, "I left all my information with your father, but was there anything you wanted to know before I start?"

"How old are you?" Charming Black questioned, eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Twenty-one," she replied.

He nodded, not dropping his skeptical gaze.

"Young," he murmured, "to have full responsibility of someone else's child."

"And how old are you?" She asked, after a moment's silence.

"Twenty three."

"Young," she mimicked, "to have full responsibility of someone else's company."

He arched a brow, and took a sip of his coffee.

Any other interview and she might've been dismissed, but charming Black hadn't been the one to hire her. His father, who so obviously called the shots in the family, had. And he'd begged Renesmee- as much as a proud man could beg, because 'there was no one else better suited to take the family business' than his only son; a full-time father that refused to leave his toddler son at a daycare centre 24/7.

So really, with his father paying her salary, and there being mere hours until her contracted starting date, there wasn't a lot charming Black could do other than arch his pretty little brow. And he knew it, too.

"That's all I need to know, I guess." He sighed. "So, did you want to meet Nathan?"


End file.
